


The Princess Poppy Prep Guide

by greerian



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Apologies, Broppy (mentioned), Character Study, Dialogue Heavy, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 05:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerian/pseuds/greerian
Summary: Two trolls talk about the rules of loving Princess Poppy (and other things).





	The Princess Poppy Prep Guide

**Author's Note:**

> My biggest pet peeve is secondary characters used only to move the main plot along. So I wrote a little fic from King Peppy's point of view. I'm sure it's not my best, since I haven't written in a while. First fic for Trolls, though. It builds a lot on previous fanfics I've been marathoning the past few days. Headcanons such as that trolls come from pods, and Poppy is kind of a special, "gift" pod, are not my ideas. Branch's parent is my idea, though. I like to think being queer isn't a weird thing for Trolls. After all, how much gayer can you get than glitter and rainbows? 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The Great King Peppy was lounging—in his custom-made spider silk briefs, on his specialty dyed, dandelion fluff-stuffed chaise lounge, in his dewdrop-cooled royal suite—when he had a thought. It floated up to the surface of his brain, lacking the urgency it might have had even a few weeks ago. Once Peppy passed the crown down to his daughter, he got to think slow for once.

The thought was a clear one, and brought a smile to the king’s face when he realized it was just up his alley: _I should talk to that Branch_.

Peppy sent a royal summons for the troll, easy as you please, and proceeded to lounge even harder than he’d been lounging before. He’s old, and retired; he can do whatever he wants.

He did put a robe on, though, just before Joy, dear child that she was, knocked on his chamber door and formally announced that Branch had arrived.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied. Joy had stood outside his door for almost a year, now, replacing her mother as the king’s protector, aide, and... well, errand-troll. She’s primarily been running for more honeysuckle cocktails these days. “Well done, Joy.”

She bowed, blushing, and returned to her post with her chin high. Branch, on the other hand, had hunched almost to the floor.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted, eyes darting around. “What’s th— “

“Pish posh,” Peppy said. “I’m not your king any longer, Branch. That title belongs to your new queen, and I’m sure she won’t let you call her that anyway. Call me ‘Peppy.’”

Branch stared. “I... can’t do that.”

Peppy shrugged. “You can’t call me ‘Your Majesty.’”

“...'sire'?”

“If you must,” Peppy replied, rolling his eyes. The freedom to roll his eyes when talking to subjects! Father of the queen is a much better gig than he ever thought. “Come in, Branch, sit down, relax.”

Branch looked at the closed door behind him, and Peppy ignored the mutter that sounded something like “I _am_ in.” The blue troll reluctantly settled on a wooden chair near the door, the one that Peppy gave to Joy whenever he thought she’d been standing long enough.

“Come closer, I’m not going to hurt you,” Peppy urged. He settled down onto his lounge with a deep sigh. It felt better every time, truly. Why wouldn’t Branch settle in, too?

Branch frowned at the king’s request. His chair squeaked as he scooted in, once.

“Closer.”

Again.

“Closer than that.”

Two scoots.

Peppy beckoned with his hand, patiently waiting until Branch had gotten within a few strides’ length. Good enough.

“How have you been?” Peppy asked. “That was a big adventure you were involved in, last month.”

“Uh. Fine, sire.”

“And your colors! Congratulations; I’ve never seen a grey troll get their colors back. It was a magnificent sight.”

Branch’s shoulders released a bit, and a small smile eased onto his face. “Thank you, sire. It’s good to have them.”

A pause. Peppy raised one eyebrow at his guest and waited.

“Oh, um, how are you, sire?”

“Delightful, my good troll!” Peppy boomed. “I haven’t felt this good since we first arrived here at Troll Village. My bad knee—you remember—is all but gone. I can walk better than I have in years. Yes, I’m doing fantastic, I really am.”

“That’s good to hear, Your—  sire.”

“Thank you, Branch. It truly is.”

Branch fidgeted in his seat. Peppy leaned back against the arm of his chair; he had all the time in the world, and he was in no rush to relieve his guest’s discomfort. Peppy had gotten the chance to know all of his subjects during his rule, but this one... he had dodged every invitation, avoided every soiree, and flat out rejected his very own royal summons before. Peppy didn’t know anything about him, except the rumors about “that crazy, grey troll. The one obsessed with Bergens, you know.” Just seeing Branch gave Peppy more information than he’d ever had about the troll before. And it turned out he was very nervous in the presence of royalty.

“Well, Branch, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.”

“Yes, sire,” Branch replied, his whole body relaxing. “What’s the problem? Did you need a backup plan in case the Bergens turn on us again? Did you want to update the emergency release on the old troll pods? Or— oh, I have some great ideas about enforcing the village’s borders and repelling some of the bigger spiders. They’re getting closer by the day, but—“ He paused, leaned in, and got infinitely more dramatic. “I think I’ve found their greatest weakness.”

Peppy chuckled. “No, no, my dear tro— Actually... those are good ideas. Of course, I’m not king, but you should talk to Poppy. I’ll recommend that you be, hmm.... ah, Minister of Security! But that’s not why I asked you here today.”

Branch’s eyes, which softened at the sound of Poppy’s name, and brightened at the potential ministerial title, narrowed in suspicion again. “Then... why?”

Peppy made sure to look him in the eye as he said: “I wanted to talk about my daughter.”

In that instant, Peppy learned that Branch was one of the most reactive trolls he’d ever met. Branch’s face changed from paralyzed shock to fear to hotly blushing embarrassment to a hint of a dopey, lovesick smile, and finally back to fear. Peppy pushed on before the poor troll could think himself into anymore distress. “Now, you know how Poppy came to us, don’t you?”

Branch shook his head.

“It was back at the Troll Tree. You were still a young trolling, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I had been leading the expansion of the tunnels my mother had begun. I didn’t think they would work. I think at the time we were all a little grey. Hundreds of years of being trapped, hunted, and eaten on sight had made even the cheeriest of us start to fade.

“Those were dark times. But, of course, we’re trolls. We go on singing and dancing and hugging regardless of what kind of chef is lurking outside our tree. Several trolls even grew pods together. There were more than I thought willing to try. As the years went on, I learned to hug freely, and kept my cheer up that way. I... was a good king.

“But I didn’t find a partner. There was no troll I matched with.” Peppy stopped for a second. Everyone pitied him for that. Branch—perhaps he’s not as different from other trolls as Peppy thought—did the same thing.

“I’m sorry, sire,” he said.

Peppy waved a dismissing hand. “I was all right with it. So what if I never fell in love? I didn’t need that to be happy, or be a good king. I still might, I don’t know. The day is long, trolls' lives are short. Who knows?

“My only sadness was that I didn’t have a child of my own. I did love trollings—still do. I didn’t know if I would ever know that joy, until the day an unclaimed pod appeared, at the very front of the troll tree.”

It had scared him, though Peppy would never admit it. A new pod, growing a tiny new troll, as close as possible to their cage’s door? That Bergen chef saw it as soon as he did, and her wicked, crooked smile grew as she surveyed it. It was only a few weeks after Trollstice, but she was already planning for next year. Peppy had been the closest to furious any troll had ever been at the thoughtlessness that led a family to place their pod there, but as couple after couple were asked, it became clear that no one knew where the pod came from. It glowed a faint pink, and was warm to the touch. It wasn’t a pod that seemed unlikely to make it. And every kind of family could be found in the Troll Tree; there was a trolling shower for those five glitter trolls and their new little one just last month. Peppy couldn’t understand why this pod would be abandoned.

Until an old seer, one who had survived on magic since the very first Trollstice, reminded the king that sometimes the Troll Tree provided for them without asking.

“The Tree knows what we need,” the ancient creature croaked. “It always knows.” With a poke of their knobby cane, Peppy knew that the pod was for him.

“It was Poppy. My darling daughter. As soon as I claimed her as my own, I redoubled the work on the tunnels. I was not ready to lead the escape before then, but now, with Poppy’s life, and hope, in my hands...” Peppy looked down at his outspread palms, the weathering and the scars, and sighed. He spent so many nights down in the tunnels, digging towards what they had to believe was Bergen Town’s drainage ditch, far from the city itself, where no Bergen would ever go. And every dawn, he would climb all the way up, out to the branch where Poppy’s pod bloomed, and wait with her through the sunrise.

“Sire?”

Peppy jumped. He forgot Branch was still here.

“Why did you wait so long? To get everyone out? You had the tunnels. Why didn’t you make everyone dig before Poppy? Other trolls were still dying.”

There was resentment in Branch’s voice. Oh, Peppy could hear the respect, the disbelief over it, but he still remembered the day their dear Rosiepuff was taken. It wasn’t Trollstice; she hadn’t left the tree. It was malicious and cruel and none of them had been able to anticipate the chef would be testing recipes that day. And Peppy... maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough to make sure Branch would be okay.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking the troll in the eye. Branch’s eyes went wide, like he didn’t expect that. “You are right. As your king, I should have tried to stop the carnage sooner. I thought... my fear of what would happen if the Bergens found all of us trying to escape overwhelmed anything. Branch, I’m sorry I didn’t do more for you, or your grandmother. Or your parent. I wish I could promise you it never happened again, but I suppose you know. Poppy went to rescue her friends because I wouldn't. I'm not the king I once was." Peppy cracked a half smile, unfamiliar on his cheerful face. "Can you forgive me, Branch?"

"Yeah, yeah, um." Branch frowned. "You said 'parent'?"

"Yes, your parent, Knoll. Rosiepuff told you about— "

"She told me about Knoll. But I had two parents."

Peppy shook his head.

"But Grandma told me I had a mom and dad! She wouldn't lie to me."

"She didn't, Branch. But your mom and dad were the same person."

"...what?"

Poor Branch. "You were so young when you lost them. Rosiepuff probably didn't explain it to you."

"Explain what? Your Majesty, I don't— !" Visibly, Branch calmed himself with a deep breath. "sire," he restarted, "I'm really confused. Could you explain what you're talking about?"

Peppy rewarded him with a smile. Good to see he was working on his temper. "Your parent went by both names with you. They were one of those brilliant trolls who saw beyond what most of us see, in the natural world and in themselves. They didn't believe they were a boy or a girl troll. They thought beyond those terms."

Branch still didn't understand. Peppy could read it in his furrowed brow, how he kept opening his mouth to ask what the what that could mean.

"The reason your grandma Rosiepuff said 'your mom and dad' is because Knoll asked for her to call them both. Knoll was a mother and father to you, Branch, until they—  they were taken from us. From you."

"Wow," Branch breathed. "I... didn't know."

"We can talk more about that later," Peppy offered. "But, if you don't mind, there was the reason I asked you to come here today?" He fished between his chaise lounge’s cushions for the book he meant to give Branch. How did it get wedged down there anyhow? Grunting, Peppy finally got a hold of it and started to tug. “Now that you love Poppy—”

“Woah, woah, no, no, no, I don’t love Poppy, what—?”

“Branch, we all heard you. The whole village was there when you told her. You have a wonderful voice, by the way.”

“No, I— wow, thank you, but, that was just—!”

“It’s all right, Branch, everyone loves Poppy.”

“What?”

Peppy chuckled. “It was just a matter of time. I’m surprised you held out as long as you did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Branch said. “Are we talking about love—” Branch hugged an invisible troll and whispered “ _Oh my guh I love you suh much! Besties for life!_ ” “—or _love_ ?” He kicked up his leg, tucked under the chair as it was, clasped his hands, and did his best impersonation of heart eyes. “ _Oh my guh we’ll be together forevuh!_ ”

As amusing as that was, Peppy shook his head. “I’m not going to define your feelings, Branch,” he said gently. “I don’t think you need to, either. Love is love. And Poppy loves you, too. As I was saying, now you _love Poppy_ , I have something for you.”

Branch eyed him, and the book he handed out, in suspicion. “ _Princess Poppy Prep Guide_?” he read. “What does that mean?”

“Dear Poppy…” Peppy mused. “Such a sweet troll. Popped right out of her pod already grinning. She didn’t come with a manual, as much as I wished she had. So, I made one.”

Branch snorted. “You made a manual for your daughter?”

“Yes, Branch, I did. It was very useful for her babysitters back in the day.”

Hesitantly, Branch took the book and started reading. It was in scrapbook form, of course.  
“‘No coffee,’” he read. “‘No mixing glitter. No sugar before bed (not even as a reward). Wear headphones if you want to sleep past sunrise.’ Is this all Poppy?”

“Of course it is. Why else would I have written it?” Peppy pushed Branch’s hand aside and flipped to the very last page. “I’m giving this to you because Poppy’s Snack Pack grew up with her. They know everything about her, maybe even more than I do. They’ve had her intricacies down pat for years. But you, Branch, are getting a crash course in Poppy. Hopefully, this manual will make sure you don’t drown in her incredible energy.”

The last page of the manual was Peppy’s favorite. Every time Poppy colored on official documents, or splashed into his baths, or got glitter and cupcake crumbs all over his bedsheets, he could turn to this page and remember—

“‘Never dim Poppy’s natural light,’” Branch said softly. “She does glow when she’s happy, doesn’t she?”

Peppy couldn’t speak for a moment. How had this troll, _this_ troll of all trolls, noticed something it took him over a year to understand, about his own child? But Branch had a softness in his eyes, something gentle in his fingers as he brushed the felt Poppy dancing across the page. Perhaps Peppy shouldn’t be so surprised.

“I’m glad you see it,” he settled on saying. “Now you keep that with you, all right? Let me know how it works out.”

Branch snapped the book shut, and they both ignored the deep blue suffusing his cheeks. “Yes, sire,” Branch replied. His eyes kept darting towards the door, but Peppy wasn’t done with him quite yet.

“By the way, Branch,” Peppy said, as if what he was about to say was nothing. “Isn’t my daughter’s handiwork incredible?”

“It is,” Branch said, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she put a lot of work into invitations for you over the years. It was nice to see that you valued them.”

Branch’s reply was as cold and sharp as midwinter’s ice. “What.”

“My dear troll, you can’t have forgotten the village’s stay in your bunker during the whole Trollstice fiasco? You saw how rowdy we all got down there before you skippy-do-daddled out of there. There was no stone left unturned.”

“B—  but it was spotless when I got back! Even my traps, everything was—!”

“We try to be good neighbors,” Peppy interrupted. “We did our best to restore everything to its proper place. But once Mandy’s little trolling, Cane, found those shelves, there was no keeping it a secret. So yes—” he interrupted Branch’s outraged question before it began. “—the whole village knows. But no one is going to tell Poppy.”

Branch was quiet for a long time. “Why?” he asked finally, more quiet than he’d been for the entire conversation.

“I believe everyone thinks you mean to surprise Poppy with them. Chatty, and loud, and obnoxious we trolls may be, but no one wants to spoil a good surprise.”

Again, silence.

“I don’t think that anymore,” Branch ventured after a while. “I’m blue again. I don’t think trolls are obnoxious. I’m not like I used to be.”

“But the noise gets to you, doesn’t it?” Peppy asked. “All the lights and the glitter?”

“How would you know?” was Branch’s retort. “...sire.”

“Poppy has asked the others to tone it down.”

“Well, the Bergens don’t like loud things or glitter. She’s probably doing it for them, since she loves Bergens so much.”

“And yet her troll-only parties are still at half their previous, how does she say it, ‘craziness.’ Why would she ask anybody to dim their enthusiasm for people who aren’t there?”

Branch’s head drooped. He looked like a flower on a snapped stalk, petals trailing the ground.

“I don’t mean to upset you,” Peppy reassured. “I’m sure nothing is lost from the parties. I’m telling you this to show you how much Poppy loves you, and how much she wants you around. She would be delighted to know you kept her invitations after all this time.”

“I’m not going to tell her.”

Peppy shrugged. “Your choice.”

Branch looked at him. “But then won’t somebody spill? I mean, if they all thought it was a surprise?”

Peppy chuckled gently. “Not all. I think most of us—those who knew you from when you were only a pod—were just happy that you were... that you... that you cared, Branch. About something.”

“I cared about stuff before! I cared about keeping us safe from the Bergens!”

“Pardon me, Branch, I should have said some _one_.”

“I—  it wasn—  it— it’s not like that.”

Peppy waited as Branch’s jaw worked, and he tried to find the right words.

“I kept them because somebody cared about me,” Branch murmured. “Somebody... wanted me around.”

“We all did, Branch,” Peppy said, reaching to pat the troll on the arm.

Branch flinched away. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, Branch,” Peppy said firmly. “We did.”

There was no response.

“We still do. You know that, don’t you?”

“I guess so.”

Peppy huffed. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-six summers. Why?”

“Because you’re acting like a trolling.”

Branch rolled his eyes, folded his arms, and hunched into his chair. Just like a trolling.

“Branch, everyone in Troll Village loves you. They want you at their parties. They want you as their friend. We trolls are the most forgiving creatures in the entire world. We forgave the flipping Bergens! And even if we weren’t, you saved my daughter and the Snack Pack. They adore you for that.”

“I couldn’t let them just get eaten,” Branch muttered, scuffing the floor with one bare, calloused foot.

“They saw that kindness in you,” Peppy assured him. “You’re a good troll, Branch. Always have been. Always will be.”

After a few long breaths, Branch finally cracked a smile. “Thanks,” he said. “Sire. Peppy.”

“That’s my troll,” Peppy said; Branch actually let his former king clap him on the shoulder this time. “Now, that’s enough chit chat, isn’t it? You’re free to go.”

“Oh, thank Hair,” Branch sighed, heading straight out the door. “I’m not sure how many more feelings I could take.”

Peppy laughed, letting it roll through his whole big body. “Goodbye, Branch. Good luck with Poppy! Remember rule number one!”

“No coffee,” Branch replied, poking his head in the door. “And never dim Poppy’s natural light.”

Peppy nodded proudly. Branch disappeared.

A few minutes later, just as Peppy had settled back in for the long haul of doing absolutely nothing, he heard a gentle voice float through his chamber’s windows.

_We both know_

_I could learn a thing or two_

_About relaxing, hey, I love you_

_And after all, it’s just another day._

It was Branch, of course. For once, he sounded almost… content.

Well. Peppy’s work there was done.


End file.
